What Love Has Made of Me
by Beaglicious
Summary: Julie Wilson may be used to being alone, but that doesn't mean she likes it. May contain spoilers through S2. Julie James angsty romance.
1. Chapter 1

**What Love Has Made of Me**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing relating to House. All characters remain property of David Shore and associated parties, and are used here without permission.**

**A/N: If you think you've seen this fic before, you probably have, as it was originally posted elsewhere. I'm putting it on ffnet so that I can have all my stories in one place. This fic was written in early February 2006, but due to events that transpired later in S2, it is now obsolete, or AU. Inspiration for this fic came from the book "Wicked," which tells the story of "The Wizard of Oz" from that of a minor character, as well as my own desire to let Julie (who I guess we'll never see now) speak for herself. Lest I face accusations of inserting myself into the storyline, let me say now that Julie and I share nothing in common other than the same profession and a love of pearls.  
**

**Summary: Julie may be used to being alone, but that doesn't mean she likes it. Julie-Wilson angst/romance. May contain spoilers through season 2.**

_House: Your wife doesn't mind being alone at Christmas?  
Wilson: I'm a doctor. She's used to being alone.  
- Damned if You Do_

The morning sunlight slowly trickled into the bedroom, diffusing through the sheer white curtains before falling at my feet. I always love this time of day, watching the sun creep its way up the comforter until the window's edge blocks it just as it reaches my chin. I've always been an early riser, and so I manage to see the sunrise every morning. Its beauty never fades, and somehow it manages to restore my faith in the world. But today even the sunrise couldn't lift my spirits.

I rolled my head over to the right, staring at the empty pillow, chewing on my lower lip with concern. Even when he isn't here, I still know where he is, if given three guesses. He doesn't have the heart to leave, even when he does. But I was beginning to think that today would be different. Today he might really be gone, and it was all my fault.

"James," I whispered to the empty room. "Please come home."

_One year earlier..._

"Julie, we've been over this before. I don't have any control over when my patients develop a neutropenic fever. You know that."

I sighed into the phone and said nothing.

"What do you want me to say, Julie?" Whenever James said those words, I knew the conversation was as good as over.

"I just don't know what to do, James. You tell me you need notice when I make plans, so I give you notice. And then you cancel on me anyways. You're completely undependable," I was close to tears again.

"Jules, my patient needs me here right now," I could just imagine James on the other end, clutching the phone between his chin and shoulder, glancing anxiously over his shoulder towards his patient's room. He was barely listening to me now.

"James, I need you too," God, I hated stooping to this level.

"Can we talk about this later?" James asked, ignoring my last statement.

"Yeah," I sighed, unclasping my earring from the ear that wasn't pressed into the phone.

"You know I love you," he said.

"I know," I replied. And it's true. I know he loves me. But what I really wanted was for him to tell me that he loves me, not that I know he loves me. Perhaps it's really just a matter of semantics, but to me it means a great deal.

I hung up the phone then, and unclasped my other earring. The two pearls rolled into the palm of my hand. I stared at them, blinking back tears as I thought about the night that James had given them to me.

_James knew how much I loved pearls. It was hard not to. I made it no secret that diamonds were nice, but pearls were really my best friend. And so when James proposed to me, he did it not with a diamond solitaire, but with these pearl earrings._

_"Oh James," I exclaimed. "You remembered!" I wrapped my arms around his neck and fell into his embrace._

_"So, that's a yes?" he asked, in that charming and bashful little boy way of his._

_"Yes, James, yes!" I exclaimed, pulling back to examine my pearls one last time before placing them in my ears. "How do I look?" I asked him, twirling around in a tight circle for dramatic effect._

_"Like my fiancée," he whispered._

That was three years ago. I'd been thirty at the time of our engagement, never married, and chomping at the bit to be so. So I passed on the big wedding that would have taken months to plan in favor of a small, intimate ceremony that took place a month after our engagement.

I got my diamond solitaire too, of course. James had it in his jacket pocket, and slipped it on my finger once I'd put on the earrings. But it was those pearls that had truly endeared him to me.

And so, three years later, here we were. I slipped out of my high heels and shuffled to the phone in my stockinged feet. "Hi," I said to the person on the other end. "I need to cancel a reservation..."

After I hung up the phone, I headed back to our bedroom to change. It looked like I was going to be spending our third wedding anniversary with my sweats, a pint of ice cream, and my well-worn DVD collection.

_Present..._

I won't bore you with the details on how we met. After all, how many times do you have to hear the proverbial blushing nurse meets handsome doctor story before you barf? The only twist on our story is that I'm a pharmacist, not a nurse, and the handsome doctor has been twice married – and divorced. And if you know James' friend House, you can connect the dots. House got his pills; James got me.

I threw the bed covers back and pushed myself out of the bed. I hate Monday mornings. Who doesn't? Oh yeah, those people who don't work. I know everyone expects me to not work; after all, I am the wife of the Chief of Oncology at PPTH. We're certainly not poor by any standard, but two ex-wives and five years of alimony a piece have taken their toll on James' bank account. Still, I could stay home, if I wanted. James certainly doesn't care one way or another. But I have no reason to stay home, so I'm still working for now. But not at PPTH.

Once James and I got married and benefits and salary were no longer my primary concern, I put in my notice at PPTH. It wasn't a bad job, but it wasn't what I really wanted to be doing. Besides, House thought I should give him a carte blanche on his Vicodin refills, and that was creating not a small bit of tension between me and James. At that time James was still making the effort to come home at a reasonable hour, so I didn't mind not getting to see him at work any longer. Now I had my dream job – working at an independently-owned pharmacy. I didn't get benefits, and I took a thirty percent cut in salary, but I was happy. And that's when all the trouble started...

It's ironic really, because another one of my reasons for originally taking a job at PPTH was because I wanted to meet new people. I'd just moved to Plainsboro from New Brunswick, after receiving my pharmacy degree at Rutgers. I knew that working in a large hospital such as PPTH would give me the opportunity to make many new friends, whereas a small independent, such as the one I currently work in, might have only a few employees. But it turns out you really need only one friend to get into a whole lot of trouble...

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**What Love Has Made of Me**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

**Thanks to everyone for their kind reviews of chapter one!**

_One year earlier…_

We were a tight knit family at Steve's Pharmacy. There's Steve, the owner, me, two technicians and a cashier. After working that closely with people, they learn to read you. So when I walked into the pharmacy that Monday after James had cancelled on me for our anniversary dinner, I knew that I'd have to spill the beans, whether I wanted to or not. Kara, one of the technicians, only had to take one look at me to know that things didn't go well the night before. She was older, maybe in her late fifties, and was like a surrogate mother for the one I'd left behind in North Carolina. Her strawberry blond curls were scraped into a messy ponytail as usual, and her emerald eyes were brimming with sympathy.

"Oh, Julie," she cried, running up and embracing me. "What happened?"

I just shook my head. "The usual," I said, trying to brush it off.

"But it was your anniversary," she continued. "You made those reservations months ago."

"I know," I shrugged, slipping into my lab coat. "But James can't control when his patients get sick, so..." My words trailed off.

"You need him too," Kara said softly, looking into my eyes. "He's not just a doctor anymore; he's a husband too."

Her kind words nearly broke my heart all over again. It was nice to have validation for what I'd said to James last night, even if it was slightly selfish. That's what I hate the most about his job. No matter how much I need him, I still always feel a twinge of guilt for pulling him away from a patient. Let's face it, who's going to get more sympathy – the child with cancer who is fighting to live to her seventh birthday, or the seemingly self-centered wife who doesn't know how good she's got it?

No wonder House and his crew despise me. All they see is the cancer patient. They don't see me at home, watching as another uneaten dinner congeals, canceling plans and obligations with friends and family at the last minute while making excuses for James, crying because our anniversary wasn't as important to him as a dying kid. All they hear is "Julie wants me to come home now. I have to go be with Julie. Julie kicked me out of the house again." Blah blah blah.

Okay, so I'm not perfect. I do have a temper. But I think even Saint Peter could lose his cool with James. I mean, seriously, how many times do you have to be put off before you just snap? And that night of our anniversary, something big had snapped inside of me.

He means well; he really does. I'll scream and yell (and occasionally throw things, but never at him) until I go hoarse and he just sits there and takes it. Is it a guilty conscience? Maybe. And sometimes, I do kick him out. But I know he'll either end up back at the hospital or at House's. Like I said, even when he leaves it's only because I force his hand, not because he wants to go.

But back to Kara. "Thanks," I whispered back, refusing to cry.

"Are you going to be ok?" she asked, looking at me doubtfully.

"I always am," I replied, trying to sound more positive than I felt. "Next week it'll be roses and chocolate."

Kara gave me a look as if to say roses and chocolate couldn't excuse every sin of James', but didn't say anything. "Well," she said, turning back to the order. "I'm here if you need me."

"Thanks," I said, before turning my attention to the pile of prescriptions on the counter. The first script I picked up was for Vicodin. I sighed. It was going to be a long day.

Steve and I were closing up later that night when he confronted me about James. Seeing as how he was fourth person I'd had to talk to that day about James, I was rather snappish.

"Julie," he began, approaching my side so we could finish up the daily paperwork.

"Look, Steve," I started, "You know I love you guys like my own family. And I am truly appreciative of your support and understanding. But I just do not want to talk about James anymore."

I looked up at Steve then. He was smiling, but I kept my eyes narrowed, not trusting him. "I just thought that maybe you'd like to go to dinner with me. Not to talk about James," he said, holding his hands up in a peace offering when he saw my eyes narrow even further. "Just, you know, as friends, colleagues, whatever. I hate to think of you going home to an empty house after all you've been through."

My expression softened then, and I swallowed the caustic remark that had been lurking in the back of my throat. His offer was tempting. "Ok," I said. "Just let me page James." My wounded ego cheered that for once I was the one calling to say I wouldn't be home for dinner. I left my cell number on James' pager, and then followed Steve out the back door.

"Your choice," he said as he fiddled with the locks.

"Your treat?" I joked back. He laughed. Some days we would joke around so much that I felt like I should be paying him to come to work, because work couldn't possibly be this much fun.

"My treat," he responded as he moved away from the door and gestured towards his car.

We hit up a local pizza joint, Dave's, which arguably serves the best pizza in Jersey. I remember how pleased I was to hear that Steve liked mushrooms on his pizza. They were my favorite topping, but James wouldn't touch them. It'd been a long time since I'd had mushrooms on my pizza, and I closed my eyes and sighed contently with the first bite.

I don't even remember what Steve and I talked about that night, just that we laughed a lot. It felt good to laugh, and I hadn't felt this good in a long time. Recently, James and I had fallen into silence. I couldn't remember the last time he'd made me laugh, or me him. His boyish grin was a faint memory.

Steve dropped me back off at the pharmacy to pick up my car. "Thanks, Steve," I said before I got out. "Tonight was just what I needed."

"Anytime," he said with a slight smile. I hopped out of the car, with a ridiculous grin on my face. I was so fortunate to have such a great friend.

Thirty minutes later, I pulled up to my house. Our house, I reminded myself, although it seemed as though once again I'd be spending the night alone. The house was dark, and James' car was nowhere in sight. I pulled my cell out of my purse. No missed calls. I wasn't too surprised. James was only batting about 0.400 when it came to returning my pages.

I let myself into the house, wishing once again that we could have a dog. I wouldn't be so lonely if I had a furry face to come home to every night. But James is highly allergic to anything fuzzy, so I'm left to choose between an iguana, a python or fish, none of which will greet you at the door with uncontained joy.

I made a perfunctory tour through the house, picking up a stray glass here or a dirty t-shirt there, before heading to bed. I curled up in the bed and started shivering, wishing that James was home to warm me up. It was this time of day that I missed him the most. I could handle him leaving early in the morning, being gone all day and even not making it home for dinner until 10 pm. But I'd never gotten used to going to bed alone. After spending the first thirty years of my life sleeping alone, I'd quickly acclimated to sharing my bed with James. Going to bed alone reminded me too much of life before him.

I'd thought for sure that I'd be up all night worrying about James. But for once the exhaustion and carb overload won out, and soon I was snoozing like a baby.

I woke up the next morning, not surprised but disappointed to find that James had not come home again. I guess he was trying to avoid a fight for as long as possible. The scary thing was, his behavior failed to anger me anymore. It just disappointed me. Personally, I liked the anger better. At least then I'd cared enough to put some sort of emotion into our relationship. Now I just felt apathetic about the whole thing.

Steve and I went out for dinner again on Tuesday night, and once again we laughed until my side hurt. He was so good at making me forget my problems. I could practically feel my permanently tense shoulder muscles unclenching. And again, I came home to an empty house. I hadn't bothered to call James to let him know I was going out after work, and I didn't even bother to check and see if he had called. I felt a twinge of sadness when I climbed in bed that night, but then I got to laughing about something Steve had said at dinner. I fell asleep with a goofy grin on my face.

Wednesday and Thursday were a repeat of Monday and Tuesday. James' side of bed was empty both mornings, and I went to work and then dinner with Steve before coming home to an empty house. I didn't even care anymore that James had been gone since Sunday.

He finally came home Thursday night. I was already in bed asleep, of course. It had to be close to one am when I felt him slip between the sheets and snuggle up to my backside to spoon me. "I'm sorry, Jules." He whispered his pet name for me into my hair, thinking that I was asleep. I could smell the beer on his breath. Out with House again, I thought. "We lost her, Jules," he continued, whispering against my neck as his arm tightened around my waist. He was prattling, the way he always did after a few drinks, and I couldn't make out his rambled mumblings. In the past, I would have rolled over and talked to him, comforting him on the loss of his patient. But I stayed turned over on my side away from him. And the worst part of it all was that I didn't feel the slightest bit guilty for ignoring him.

He was gone before sunrise the next morning, of course.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

**What Love Has Made of Me**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

**Thanks to all who reviewed the first two chapters!**

James and I hadn't made any plans for the upcoming weekend, not that it would have mattered anyhow, since he called me Friday morning and said that he had a patient being admitted and he was swapping weekend call with another doc so he could monitor him. He left the message on my cell phone, and called when he knew I wouldn't be able to answer it.

I frowned and drummed my fingers on the counter as I listened to his message. Is it that hard to talk to your wife, James, I thought, recognizing his avoidance technique for what it was. Suddenly, I desperately needed to hear his voice, wanted to hear him tell me that I know that he loves me, and so I paged him, with the faint hope that he might actually call me back. I waited for his call all day, retreating further into myself as the day wore on. By closing time, I was practically shuffling around the pharmacy like a psych patient on haldol.

I waited on Steve that night while he locked up. As he turned around, I noticed his frown. "Julie," he said. My eyes barely flicked up at the sound of his voice. Was it possible for someone to lapse into a spontaneous coma?

"Hmm?" I replied, scuffing my shoe against the concrete.

"Have you talked to James yet?" He knew that I hadn't, so I looked up at him in exasperation without answering.

"Julie, I've tried to stay out of the way, because I know you were more in need of a friend than a therapist. But you can't keep going on like this. I don't think I've ever seen you so depressed." He cringed then, waiting for a tongue-lashing.

I sighed and spun around to face the parking lot. I couldn't look him in the face. "I know," I said, staring up at the sky and wrapping my arms around me. For once, the stars were visible, and I found myself thinking about my childhood dream of visiting one. "I just don't know what to do about it. We haven't even talked since he cancelled on me Sunday. He hasn't even given me a chance," I continued, conveniently ignoring what had happened the night before.

"Julie, I respect James. He's a superb doctor, and he certainly is smart because he married you. But right now I think that he is making a huge mistake."

"I can't make him talk to me, Steve," I replied in frustration. "That's the most irritating thing about this whole issue, the fact that he thinks he can avoid me indefinitely!" I spun around then in irritation, fire flashing in my dark brown eyes.

I met Steve's eyes. For once, I couldn't read him, but there was something going on behind his watery blue eyes. I studied Steve, trying to read his thoughts. He was older than me, about fifty, and had wavy blond hair that he kept trimmed short to keep it under control. It was graying at the temples. He was taller than James, almost House's height, it seemed.

"Have you thought about going to the hospital to see him?" he asked quietly.

"He screwed up." I pouted as my wounded pride surfaced. "I'm not going crawling to him." I crossed my arms across my chest and glared at him, daring him to disagree.

"You deserve better, Julie," he said, as he hesitantly reached out to rub my upper arm. When I didn't flinch at his touch, he grew bolder and pulled me to him. I kept thinking to myself that I needed to pull away, but I had this funny feeling in my stomach, like I was going to be sick. Steve leaned down then, until his lips were almost on mine and I could feel his warm breath on my face. The funny feeling grew stronger, and when his lips finally met mine I felt for sure my stomach would pop the feeling was so intense.

Looking back now, with the beauty that is hindsight, I can't help but sigh in disgust at the complete cliché that my life became at that moment. Steve was my boss, for crying out loud. Falling in love with one's boss was Cameron's department, not mine. When it was all over, it felt as though I had been sloughing in slow-motion through a bad daytime soap opera. But at the time, I was riding high and low on the tide of my emotions. Any rational protests were quickly swallowed up and spat out, like seaweed left behind after the morning tide.

I'd love to be able to say that I felt some guilt after that first kiss, and maybe I did, but I don't remember it. All I remember is how good it felt to be in someone's arms again, to feel rough hands running up and down my back and the gentle pressure of lips against mine.

I pushed Steve back against the door then, greedily taking his kisses and simultaneously demanding more. Steve finally broke the kiss, and we stared at each other with ragged breaths.

"Julie," he began, but I shushed him with a finger against his lips. "I don't want explanations and excuses, Steve. Please, don't try to rationalize this." I got enough of that from James.

"I just wanted to tell you how beautiful you are, Julie," he said, the words garbled as his lips moved against my finger. My finger fell away from his mouth then, and he bent down to kiss me again.

We wound up on the floor of his office, unwillingly to part for the length of time that it would take us to drive to his house. I tried not to think about the fact that James was also sleeping in his office that night as well, but the thought haunted me all night.

I won't even try to justify my behavior, because like I said earlier, I've had enough with excuses and explanations. I don't think I could explain it, even if I tried. And to say that Steve was there for me and James wasn't is just so cliché, even if there was a measure of truth to it.

James and I eventually made up. He slunk home late Sunday afternoon, bearing chocolate and roses, just as I'd predicted to Kara. "I'm sorry, Jules," he told me again.

"It's like you said, you can't help it when your patient gets sick." I looked up and smiled at him, and could see the relief wash over his face. "Let's just try and move on, James." He looked at me oddly then, as if he couldn't believe that I was willing to drop the issue so easily.

"O-Okay," he stammered, watching me warily as I put away the dishes. I'd thrown one too many for him not to.

I almost broke then, seeing the happiness light up his face, almost broke down and told him about me and Steve. But his next words turned my broken heart to solid stone.

"I have to head back, Jules," he said, and I noticed then that he hadn't even taken off his heavy overcoat. "I'm still on call until 7 tomorrow morning. I managed to bribe one of House's ducklings to cover me for an hour while I ran home."

I snorted, knowing exactly which duckling it was. It had to be Cameron, because it was always Cameron. She was forever offering to help James out, to take his call, to finish his paperwork, so he could go home. It sickened me. If she thought she could fix our marriage simply by sending James home, she was sorely mistaken. I wondered if she expected me to thank her.

James hugged me, and quickly kissed me on the top of my head. "You know I love you, Jules," he said, giving me his famous lopsided grin.

And so I fell into a comfortable, almost domestic, affair with Steve. James had hospital board meetings on Tuesday nights, and a departmental heads meeting on Thursday nights. On those nights, I went out with Steve. Sometimes we ended up back at his house, in his bed, and other nights we simply went to dinner and parted with no more than a quick kiss. Steve was adept at reading my emotions, and seemed to know without asking what I needed.

I went home the other nights, to cook a dinner that James usually missed. I didn't want to give him any reason to be suspicious. If James had weekend call, I usually packed my bags and went to stay with Steve. Before Steve, I used to spend the weekends that he was on call with an old girlfriend from school. James assumed I was still staying with her. Either way, he rarely called.

In retrospect, I remember how angry I would get sometimes that James didn't have the slightest suspicion about me and Steve. Did I really soar under his radar that much? I was almost indignant that he didn't catch me, as if his doing so would show that he cared.

TBC…

**A/N: I know we could all see _that_ coming from a mile away, but I'm more interested in exploring the motivations behind Julie's behavior than in creating surprises. Allow me one moment to brag that I _so called_ the Julie-cheating-on-James issue on RL House! I had just finished this story when that episode aired, and I was saddened but not surprised. Married characters just don't make for good ratings. I could go on and on about that little conspiracy theory of mine, but I'll spare you the details. :-)  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**What Love Has Made of Me**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

**Thanks again to all the reviewers, especially Larken, who summed it up quite nicely with, "As much as I love Wilson, I wouldn't want to be with Wilson." My feelings exactly!**

Steve only told me he loved me twice. The first time was after we had been together for about six months. It was during those stressful few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, when everyone's emotions are already on edge.

We were at his house, in bed. "Jules," he began as he snuggled against me. I had my head turned away, staring at the far wall, wondering again how I'd managed to get myself in this situation and wishing that it was James who was here with me, because even when I was with Steve, James was never far from my mind.

"Don't call me Jules," I muttered, still staring at the wall.

"Why not?" he asked. I sighed. I knew he wanted more out of our relationship than I was willing or capable to give.

"Because only James calls me Jules," I said, knowing that it would hurt him and not particularly caring. I'd long since forgotten about that funny feeling that drew me to Steve in the first place, but I wasn't sure how to extract myself from the mess I'd created without causing another uproar, and I was too weary to think too hard about it.

He sighed then, let go of me, and flopped over on his back.

"I love you, Julie," he sighed. "Can't you see that?"

"I know you do," I told him. We said nothing after that, and I slunk home after he fell asleep. We didn't speak for two weeks after that, other than the civil exchanges required at work. I took more than one sick day during that time, unable to face Steve and the unpleasant churning in my stomach that started up ever time I did.

God, I'm pathetic, I thought as I drove home that night. Now I'm getting into spats with my lover. Maybe it's me, I thought, not particularly caring to know the answer.

But two weeks later James and I got into another famous row, and Steve just couldn't help himself. "Please let me take care of you, Julie," he begged. I gave in, because I did care about Steve and because he so easily and willingly met my every need.

And so Steve and I fell back into our old routine, with him keeping his emotions and nicknames to himself.

_Present..._

I fell back onto the bed then, remembering that I no longer had a job to go to. That was an indirect result of Steve telling me for the second time that he loved me.

It was a Sunday evening, one week before my and James' four year anniversary. He was promising me something big this year to make up for last year's letdown. If you only knew, I'd thought when he'd told me. At any rate, he'd promised me a long weekend in Maine at a quaint bed and breakfast. I refused to get my hopes up, knowing that more than likely he'd have to cancel at the last moment. I'd put off telling Steve for as long as possible, knowing that the news wouldn't be well received. But I finally had to tell him, because I needed two days off work.

I waited until we were in bed one night, hoping that it would soften the blow. I knew Steve couldn't understand why I stayed with James, when it was so apparent that he loved me and was willing to take his place. But I couldn't leave James. I really did love him. I just didn't know how to get out of my current situation, or how to get me and James back to where we started, back to where we were in love.

"You've got bad news, don't you?" Steve asked, dragging me away from my internal monologue.

I grimaced at him, knowing that I shouldn't be surprised that he'd known something was up. He was way too perceptive not to.

"James is taking me away for our anniversary next week. I'm going to need a couple of days off." I stared at my hands as I talked, unable to look him in the face.

Steve sighed and rolled over away from me. "We can't go on like this anymore, Julie," he said. He was mumbling into the pillow, and I had to strain to hear him.

I said nothing, knowing he had more to say.

He rolled back over then, and cupped my face in his hands. "I'm tired of this. I don't want to be the other man in you life anymore, Julie. I want to be the only man in your life. I love you, and this situation is killing me."

"You know I'm not going to leave him," I said flatly. With Steve there had been a funny feeling that had been nice to indulge, but with James there was more. Right now that more was like a gaping wound that hurt every time I moved, but the funny feeling was gone, and the hurt was still there. I could remember a time though when that hurt had had a sweet tinge to it, when it had been the good kind of hurt. I wouldn't trade that hurt for anything, even if I did resent it sometimes.

"Maybe we just need to end this then," he said coldly.

"Fine," I replied, just as coolly.

He broke then, and clung to me. "Julie, what's so wrong with me? I've done nothing but love you. What has James done for you recently? The only reason he's taking you to Maine is because he feels guilty about all the times he's abandoned you, and hopes that it gives him some leeway for all the times in the next year that he's going to do the same."

"Don't talk about James like that," I spat, peeling his arms off of me and scooting out of the bed. "You don't know anything about him and me." I started to put on my clothes, cursing myself once again for getting myself into this situation. I wondered if this was how James had felt when he'd cheated on his first wife. Probably not, I thought. After all, he'd cheated on his first wife with his soon-to-be second wife.

"I know more than you think, Julie. James' reputation precedes him. What makes you so certain that he's going to stand by you? You are his third wife, remember? How can you be so certain that he won't cheat on you?" Steve had rolled onto his side, and was propping his head up with his hand, looking too cocky for my liking.

I snapped then. Everyone gives James such a hard time about his first two wives. To hear House talk about it, you would think the man hadn't been faithful a day in his life. Well, it's time to set the record straight.

James and Emily had been very young when they married, barely 22 and just out of college. She'd had big dreams about being a rich doctor's wife, but what she hadn't planned on was first being the wife of a poor medical student. I can't condone James for cheating on her, but I can understand. Their marriage had been all but over by the time James fell into bed with his rather attractive study partner.

Shannon had been a bit more realistic than Emily, perhaps too much so. They married shortly after graduating from medical school, with just enough time to pack up their apartment in Baltimore and move to Jersey. They were fortunate with how their residency matches had worked out. James got an oncology residency here at PPTH, and Shannon was right up the road at Rutgers, specializing in pediatrics. Four years later, Shannon announced out of the blue that she "wasn't cut out for married life."

James was shocked, to say the least. "You need someone who's going to be satisfied with just being a doctor's wife," she'd told him. "I can't do that. I don't want to do that. There are so many things I want to do with my career, and I just don't think it's fair to expect you to trail along after me. I would hope that you wouldn't expect that from me. We're both young doctors with a lot before us, and I don't want my options limited by someone else."

She'd never given him any warning until the day she left him. He couldn't understand what she was saying. He'd never given her any indication that he expected her to sacrifice her career for him, although in my opinion (which I kept to myself – score two points for me), it's not an unreasonable expectation that you take your spouse's wants and needs into consideration when making such big decisions. Otherwise, what's the point in staying married? This, I guess, was exactly Shannon's point.

So really, James isn't quite the philanderer House makes him out to be. Okay, granted, he did go through his fair share of the nursing staff after Shannon left him, but he just wasn't ready to commit to anything serious. Can you blame him?

"I'm not certain he won't cheat on me, Steve!" I yelled. "God knows if he does I deserve it after what I've been doing to him for the last year." I started to cry then, as the reality of my betrayal sank in. Up until this point I had been denying how damaging my behavior had been. I had spent the last year cheating on my husband, the man I had sworn to love for the rest of my days, the man I knew I was going to love for the rest of my days, even if he left me. I sank back onto the bed and buried my face in my hands. "What have I done?" I sobbed. "All I ever wanted was James. He screwed up, but he doesn't deserve this!"

"Oh Julie," Steve said as all the anger drained out of his voice. He scooted over to the side of the bed next to me, placed his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him. "I am so sorry. This is all my fault."

For some reason his words made me sob even harder. "No," I said firmly, shaking my head. "This – you, James – is all my fault. I've betrayed James and hurt you in the process. God, I am so stupid!"

"Julie, you're not stupid. You were just vulnerable, and I took horrible advantage of that. I am so sorry. I had no idea you felt so strongly about James. I mean, all I - all we - ever heard was how much he screwed up on a regular basis. I never meant to hurt you like this."

"What am I going to do?" I mumbled into my hands, too tired to bawl anymore, although the tears continued to run down my face.

"God, Julie, I never thought I'd be saying this to you." He removed his arm from my shoulder and clasped his hands between his knees. "You need to go home to James. If you love him, if he's what you really want, then you need to go home to him right now."

"He's going to hate me," I wailed. "He'll never forgive me!"

"Julie, listen to me." Steve clasped one hand on each of my shoulders and forced me to look at him.

"What?" I sighed, finally raising my eyes to meet his when I realized he wouldn't continue talking until I did.

"I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that everything's going to be ok. James very well could never forgive you for this. But you still need to try and make it right. He may surprise you Julie." Steve wiped at his eye then. I cried even harder, hating myself for hurting Steve in the process.

"Julie," Steve said softly. "Don't beat yourself up over me, ok? I'm not worth it."

I was so paralyzed with grief that I couldn't move. I wanted to go home, needed to go home, but I just couldn't move. If I sat here forever, I wouldn't have to tell James. But if I got up and started moving, then it would only be a matter of time before I crushed him with my confession.

Steve stood up and held his hands out to me. "Let's go Julie."

I let Steve pull me to my feet, and then trudged out of the room, my feet feeling heavier with every step. Steve accompanied me to the door. I walked through the front door, then turned back to face him. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Steve," I whispered.

"No more apologies," he muttered, then continued, "It'd probably be a good idea if you didn't come back to work," he said, a resigned look to his face.

"Yeah," I muttered.

"Bye Jules," he said, a faint smile playing across his face.

I shook my head at him then and smiled back at him. "Don't call me Jules, Steve," I said.

"I know," he said as his smile grew bigger. "Only James can call you that."

We both laughed then, and I knew Steve would be ok. I headed down his front steps and tried to steel myself for the confrontation yet to come.

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

**What Love Has Made of Me**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

**Thanks, as always, for the reviews and encouragement. Here's to Season 3!**

I thought I'd have one last night to myself, since James was on call until the next morning, but when I pulled into the driveway the lights were on. I'd been gone since Friday morning and hadn't left any on. It was James, and he was home. Thank you, Cameron.

I sat in my car for a few minutes, gathering my thoughts, watching as the light from the garage played off my engagement ring. I'd never hated myself more than I did at that moment. Sighing, I opened the car door and headed toward the house.

James was sitting in the kitchen, eating, when I walked through the door from the garage. God, I wasn't getting any breaks tonight.

"Hey," he said, smiling at me over his bowl of Cheerios.

"Hey," I replied, hoping I sounded normal. "What are you doing home?" I dropped my overnight bag on the floor and flipped through the mail that James had brought in.

"Cameron," he said, smiling as I looked up and rolled my eyes. "Why do you always roll your eyes when I mention her? It's like you don't want me coming home."

I dropped the mail back down on the table and walked around to sit across from James. "I don't know," I answered noncommittally, shrugging my shoulders as I did so. The last thing I needed to do right now was pick a fight with him over Cameron.

James, ever agreeable, dropped the topic as well. "How was Amy's?" he asked.

"Um, I need to talk to you about that," I said, twisting my hands in my lap as I did so. "Oh God," I moaned before dropping my head onto the table and starting to cry.

"Jules?" James pulled his chair over to me and put his arm around my shoulder. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

I continued to sob, but nodded my head up and down.

"What? Did Amy say something to you? Do you not want to go stay there anymore?"

I shook my head no to all his questions.

"Jules, baby, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

"It's Steve," I managed to choke out before increasing my sobs.

"Did you lose your job? Jules, it's not a big deal. You don't have to work if you don't want to. You know that. And you can always come back to the hospital if you want to." He was rubbing my back now. James has, and always will be, a sucker for tears.

I took one huge breath in, hiccupping several times as I did so. I then raised my head to look James in the eye. He at least deserved that. The sight of his face nearly undid me again. It was his doctor's face, the one that's full of concern and compassion. God, I loved his eyes. He gently brushed my thick dark brown hair out of my face before cupping my face in his hand and rubbing away the tears with his thumb.

"I was with Steve this weekend," I said simply before closing my eyes and hesitantly opening them again. His face filled with confusion, and he looked to me for clarity. I barely nodded my head, and then grimaced as his hand fell away and understanding dawned on his face.

"You...and Steve...were together..." He stumbled for words.

"I am so sorry, James," I said. James pushed his chair away from me and looked away. I watched him, waiting for some sign of how he was going to react. When he turned around and I saw the tears in his eyes, I lost it then, crying harder than I'd ever cried before.

"How long has this been going on, Julie?" he asked with a new hardness to his voice.

I tried to stop crying long enough to answer him, but it took me several moments. Finally I whispered, "a year," and then resumed crying.

James sat for a moment, digesting this new information, and then slammed his hand down on the table. I jumped and eyed him warily. I have never, ever been afraid of James hitting me, but the fury in his eyes just then scared me.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered again.

"I need to go," he said, talking more to himself than me. "I-I need to think."

"James, I'll go," I offered, feeling that he shouldn't have to leave because I screwed up.

"Where are you going to go, Julie?" he asked cynically. I knew without him saying it where exactly he was thinking, and my heart broke all over again at his rightful distrust.

"It's over, James," I said. "I swear. Oh God," I moaned, burying my face in my hands in a futile attempt to hide my shame. "I screwed up the best thing I ever had." Now I was the one talking to myself. I shook my head back and forth behind my hands, feeling the tears slip between my fingers. The sound of the door to the garage slamming shut caused me to look up. I sighed. He was gone. "Way to go, Julie," I berated myself.

Suddenly, exhaustion overcame me. I didn't know if I'd be able to even make it upstairs, but I must have, because I woke up in our bed this morning. And so here I am, with no job and no husband.

I'm not expecting sympathy, because I certainly don't deserve any. But I don't want to lose James either. At this point, however, what's to become of our relationship is entirely James' decision.

TBC…

**A/N: My apologies for the shortness of this chapter. The story just breaks naturally at this point. The next bit will be significantly longer. **


	6. Chapter 6

**What Love Has Made of Me**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**Thanks to all the reviewers and readers for your continued support. **

The next morning I rang Amy and asked if I could come and stay with her for a while. She knows enough about my and James' acrid relationship not to ask questions. I barely made it off the phone without bursting into tears. Once I hung up though, the tears began to flow. I headed upstairs to pack my bags, trying to ignore James' side of the closet. Even the sight of his dirty t-shirt lying on the floor, just inches from the hamper, was enough to get me going. Before I left, I wrote James a brief note and left it lying on the kitchen countertop. He'd have to come home eventually.

_Dearest James,_

_I am truly sorry for my behavior. I hope that someday you will be able to forgive me, although I realize that I am undeserving of your forgiveness. I do love you, very much. I wish I could tell you where and why everything went so wrong, but there is no way to rationalize my actions, and I wouldn't dare insult you by trying to justify something that has no valid defense. Therefore, all I can offer you is my love and an apology, both of which are woefully inadequate in light of my behavior. I am so sorry, James._

_Love always,  
Jules_

_PS – I've gone to stay with Amy for a while. It hurts too much to stay here without you. You've got her number._

I looked forlornly around the kitchen one last time before stepping out into the garage. Minutes later, I was headed down the highway, with too many tears in my eyes to make out Plainsboro as it faded in my rearview mirror.

I reached Amy's twenty minutes later. She greeted me on the front door stoop, and I fell into her arms, sobbing. She led me inside and we sat on the couch, where I sobbed into her shoulder while she rubbed my back and made comforting noises. Finally, I was able to start talking, although I had to stop several times to cry some more. Amy said nothing during the two hours that it took me to tell my story.

I stayed at Amy's that week, unsuccessfully forcing myself to forget that my four year anniversary was the next Monday and about the trip that James had planned. I spent Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday in bed, too depressed to do much else other than watch TV and sleep. On Thursday, the greasy feel of my matted hair was getting to me, so I crawled out of bed and into the shower. I turned the water up almost to scalding, then sank to the floor of the tub and allowed the steaming water to beat on my back while I cried. Thirty minutes later, I crawled back out of the shower, having exhausted both the hot water and my tears. I rummaged through the guest bath drawers, and finally managed to find some toothpaste and a spare toothbrush. Satisfied that I had fulfilled the basic requirements of human hygiene, I crawled back into bed, expecting to fall asleep.

For some reason though, my mind wouldn't rest. Something was bothering me, but I couldn't figure it out. Something during my shower had triggered a faint memory, and I just knew that I was overlooking something huge. I fretted over this lost memory for the next hour, until my weary mind gave out on me. I was closer to sleep than awake when I shot straight up in bed, having just remembered what I had forgotten.

"Oh God," I moaned as I buried my face in my hands, "This can not be happening." My quest for toothpaste had led me through most of the drawers under Amy's sink, where I had finally found it behind a huge multi-pack of tampons. I realized then what had been bothering me. I was two weeks late.

"Amy!" I screeched as I raced down the stairs wearing nothing more than a ragged t-shirt. "Amy!"

Amy met me in the doorway to the kitchen, a concerned look on her face. "What's the matter, Julie?" she asked, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"I think I'm pregnant," I muttered before bursting into tears again.

"Oh Julie," Amy whispered as she reached out to hug me.

An hour later we were sitting on the rim of her tub, staring at an unopened pregnancy test kit procured during a quick run to the drug store.

"How could I be so careless?" I ask Amy as I stare at the box, willing it and my problems to disappear.

"Julie..." Amy chides. "Nothing's certain yet." She offers me one last clutch at hope, but I watch it go by me and refuse to grab on.

I slowly open the box, hesitantly, as if expecting a monster to spring out from within.

"You don't have to do this now, Julie," Amy tries again to comfort me, although I know I won't rest until I have an answer.

I rip the foil casing off one of the sticks and stare at it, watching as the indicator box, empty of lines for the moment, mocks me.

"Aren't you supposed to wait until morning to do this?" Amy grabs the box out of my hand and buries herself in the directions. I suddenly sense her fear, and my stomach churns.

"I already opened it," I say lazily. I stand up and fiddle with my belt. It's hard to loosen the buckle without dropping the testing stick. Amy stands as well.

"Let me know if you need me," she says, exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind me.

Without her, I feel suffocated in this small enclosed space. I suddenly panic, and can't get this over fast enough.

Five minutes later, Amy and I are once again perched on the tub rim, staring at the stick. Suddenly, I throw the stick across the room in a burst of anger. "Damnit!" I yell before running out of the room.

Amy catches up with me a few seconds later. I am thumbing rapidly through my day planner. I look up at her, tears brimming in my eyes. "I don't know whose it is," I confess. Amy gently pulls the day planner out of my hands and sets it aside as I collapse into her arms.

"What am I going to tell James?" I wail. "It's too early to do a paternity test."

"How soon could you find out?" Amy asks.

I take a deep breath in and look up from her shoulder. "Twelve weeks at the very earliest, I think. I guess I could hide it from him that long, assuming we're still talking. Yeah, I think that would work." I'm grasping at a straw, but I am so desperate for an answer that any solution sounds viable. "On the other hand, if it is his, he'll never forgive me for keeping it from him." My face crumples as I watch my plan dissolve. "What am I thinking? He's not going to forgive me either way. I'm going to end up raising this baby alone."

"Julie," Amy says sternly, grasping me by the shoulders. "You've been through a lot this week and don't need to be making any decisions right now. Give yourself a few days to calm down so you can think about the situation more clearly."

"It's not going to go away, Amy," I snap, spinning away from her and flopping down on the couch. "I can't just ignore this."

"Julie," Amy says, softer this time, as she sits next to me and takes my hand in hers. "I'm not saying that you need to ignore it. You just need to give yourself some time to digest all this information." She smoothes my hair down and tucks it behind my ear. "A few days isn't going to change things one way or another."

"I guess," I sigh, not at all convinced. "Ame?" I ask. "What am I going to do if it's Stan's?"

"That's something you're going to have to work out with him and James. But you know I'll support you no matter what, as long as you're happy."

"Amy," I continue, too worked up to rest, "Do you think I'm a terrible person?"

Amy looks at me, exasperated, and rolls her eyes. "Don't be silly, Julie," she says, swatting my arm lightly. "But seriously," she continues when she sees my face fill with doubt and self-loathing, "I don't think that you're a bad person. You've just made some bad decisions, that's all. There's no use in crying over spilled milk, or judging the person who spilt it, but that doesn't mean that cleaning it up off the floor is going to be a pleasant process."

Amy brings me a hot cup of tea then, and we sit in comfortable silence while I drink it. The warmth from the tea makes me sleepy, and I slouch down even further into the couch before falling asleep.

I woke up later that evening, feeling much better after my nap. I even forgot about my predicament for a few seconds. But reality quickly crashed down around me before I'd even rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and it was only through shear willpower that I kept myself from crying.

Amy had fixed dinner by that time, and we sat on the couch, slurping spaghetti off our plates while watching TV. I was even beginning to get the tiniest bit excited at the prospect of having a baby, although every time my enthusiasm tried to bubble up, concerns over the paternity of the child squelched it.

I woke up the next morning, determined to do at least one useful thing that week. Amy and I spent the morning out in her garden, digging merrily in the dirt as we plucked weeds and coddled fledgling vegetables. Neither James nor Stan nor the baby came up that morning. Looking back, I remember how good it felt to have the warm spring sun beat down on my back and to feel the moist dirt between my fingers.

"Well I'm pooped," Amy announced after we'd been out there for several hours. "Are you ready for lunch?"

"I'm starving," I confessed. "When do you think I'll start craving weird foods?"

"Hopefully not today," Amy said, laughing as she stood and offered her hands to me. "Because pickles and ice cream are definitely not on the menu." I laughed as she pulled me up.

"Ow," I said, grasping my side as I finished straightening up.

Amy's smile melted away. "What's wrong, Julie?" she asked.

"Nothing," I lied, waving her away. "Just a cramp from being on my hands and knees all morning. I just need to give it a minute to work itself out."

Amy looked at me skeptically. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Positive," I lied again. But the pain wasn't getting better; it was getting worse. _Please God, don't put me through a miscarriage as well. _But even as I prayed, I knew that something was really wrong. I tried to take a few steps, only to see spots appear in my eyes.

Amy grabbed my good side to steady me. "Let's get you inside. I'm going to call my OB."

"It's really nothing, Amy," I feebly protested.

Somehow we made it inside, and I collapsed on the sofa. Amy hustled off to the kitchen and got her OB's office on the phone. I heard her pause, mumble, pause again and then mumble some more before hanging up the phone. She marched back in, a determined look in her eyes.

"I'm taking you to the hospital," she declared.

As much as I didn't want to go, I knew Amy was right. Amy somehow guided me to her car, where I passed out in her back seat before we even made it out of the driveway.

Weeks later, Amy told me that I'd mumbled incoherently to myself during the entire ride to the hospital. At one point I sat up, realized that we were headed to PPTH and almost made her run off the road. I was frantic.

"You can't take me to PPTH," I yelled. I was spiking a fever at this point, and my face was pasty white. "The whole hospital will know."

"It's the closest hospital, Julie," Amy said. She didn't want to take me there either, but she was too worried to risk driving onto Princeton General. Besides that, she had a sneaking suspicion that when James found out that I was in the hospital, he'd go ballistic if I was anywhere other than PPTH.

I remember strong arms pulling me out of the car at the hospital and placing me on a stretcher. "Do not tell James, Amy," I begged as they wheeled me into the ER. "I don't want him to know."

"You either!" I said, squirming around to yell at the poor guy pushing the gurney. "I know my rights! HIPPA applies to me too!" He nodded and smiled reassuringly, then turned and whispered "lorazepam" to the nurse following behind him.

I'd almost made it into the safety of my exam room without being recognized when we passed none other than Allison Cameron. She was talking to an attractive man in scrubs, who was grinning back at her. "Julie Wilson?" she asked in disbelief, leaving her companion behind to follow alongside my gurney.

I groaned. My first and last name, no less. She continued to follow behind us, and once the nurse had me settled in the room, she rushed up to my bed. "Julie! What happened?"

"Just some stomach cramping," I said, trying to smile. Cameron gave me the same doubtful look Amy had given me earlier. At that moment, the nurse walked back in. "We'll have the ultrasound machine in here in a few minutes. I don't mean to upset you, but we think it's probably an ectopic pregnancy."

I closed my eyes, trying to keep the silent tears behind my lids, but they rolled down my face anyway.

"I'm so sorry, Julie," Cameron said, taking my hand in hers. "Do you want me to go get James? I saw him not ten minutes ago, heading for his office. We didn't even know you were pregnant." There was no judgment in Cameron's eyes. Was it possible that my notorious gossip of a husband had managed to keep a lid on my affair? I sighed.

"No James," I whispered. "Please Cameron, I don't want him to know about this."

"You need your husband with you, Julie," she pressed. "You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

"He doesn't know," I told Cameron, hoping she'd get the hint.

She frowned briefly. "He doesn't know you're pregnant?" she asked.

To hell with it, I thought. Anything to get her out of the room. "I just found out yesterday, Cameron. But I don't want James to know because I don't know if it's his child."

"Oh," she said softly, her face remaining surprisingly neutral. "Okay. I'll get them to put a fake name on your chart. That's your only hope for remaining anonymous, but I have a feeling either way it won't last long."

"Thank you," I said, surprised at her generosity. She turned to go. "Cameron?" I asked. I couldn't believe what I was about to do, but I had to know. "I know I'm not going to be able to keep this child. But – if - is there anyway that you could…."

I'd meant to ask her if she could run a DNA test on my child, because I knew it was only a matter of time before James found me here. I didn't get to finish my question though, because right then my fallopian tube ruptured, and I went into shock.

TBC…


	7. Chapter 7

**What Love Has Made of Me**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: Well, this is it. My deepest thanks to each reader who gave this story a chance. May Julie's never-cast character rest in peace. And finally, I stretched a few limits relating to medical plausibility, but not any more so than they do on the show.**

_They told me later that I coded three times before they could stabilize me. They said that if Cameron hadn't been in the room when I coded that I might not have made it. She was able to start the code and had me back in sinus rhythm (for a while, anyway) before anyone else showed up. I lost a lot of blood during that time and narrowly missed developing sepsis. It was three days before I woke up. When I finally did open my eyes for the first time on that Monday morning, the first thing I saw was James, slumped over in a chair next to me, asleep…_

My first thought was that I was hallucinating. My second thought was that I was in a whole lot of pain, and I couldn't keep from groaning in response. James stirred at the noise, and I shivered. I wasn't ready to face him. I wasn't even really sure what had happened to me, but it was too late now. He was definitely awake.

"Jules?" he said, the disbelief equally mixed with hope on his tired face. "Are you awake, baby?" He jumped out of the chair and pressed himself next to my bed. He ran one cool, smooth hand over my forehead, pushing my matted hair out of my eyes. "Hey baby," he whispered when he could finally see me. His other hand then shot forward as he shone a bright light in my eyes. I smiled. Always the doctor.

My smile seemed to reassure him, because he turned the light off and went back to looking into my eyes with his own. The hand that had been holding the light now grasped one of my own hands firmly.

"Hey," I whispered back, surprised at how hoarse my voice was. My mouth felt like sandpaper and I could only imagine what my breath smelled like. I choked then, and James quickly grabbed a glass of water and guided the straw to my lips.

"Thanks," I sputtered after I slurped until there was no water left.

"Do you want some more?" he asked anxiously as his forehead creased in concern.

"No," I said, not wanting him to leave me. I closed my eyes and smiled, enjoying this brief, precious moment in his arms.

"Jules?" he said, the panic rising in his voice. I guess he wasn't ready for me to drift off again, so I forced open my eyes and smiled weakly at him again. I was so tired already.

"God, Jules you scared me. Don't ever do that again."

"Sorry," I said.

He smiled and nodded. I found my eyes shutting against my will. I wasn't ready to leave James yet, but I was rapidly sinking back into oblivion.

"I love you," he said and I fought unsuccessfully to open my eyes once more.

"I love you too," I told him, although I was pretty sure that he couldn't make out my words. The last thing I remember was James bending down to kiss my forehead. His scent overwhelmed me, and I fell asleep content.

_Amy had broken down when I coded and ran to find James. She said that when she told him I was downstairs in the ER that his face went as white as a ghost before he sprinted off down the hall, nearly knocking over an old lady or two in his haste to find me. _

"_He didn't leave your side once, Julie," Amy told me later. "I don't know that I've ever seen a person so worried."_

_Amy said James never once questioned my pregnancy. He was so focused on saving me that he had to be removed from my room more than once because he was in the way._

"_He wouldn't let go of you, Julie. He had your head cradled to his chest, and those poor docs were dancing all around him trying to resuscitate you. He was crying, Julie. He was openly bawling in front of his colleagues, begging them to save your life."_

"_He told them that you were the only thing that mattered to him, that if they lost you they might as well go on and kill him too because he couldn't live without you. He loves you, Jules. He really does."_

I woke up again later that afternoon. James was in the same position that he'd been in the first time, slumped over and snoring. Pain seared through me again, but I bit my lip to keep from waking him. Right at that moment, Cameron walked in through the door.

"I heard you were awake," she said brightly. "I've got those tests results for you."

I looked over at James then. Damnit. He was awake. Cameron saw James just then too, and her face flushed. "Dr. Wilson," she stammered. "I –I didn't know you were here. I was just dropping off some of Julie's, um, daily labs. I'll just bring them back later." She turned to race out of the room, but James' eerily quiet voice stopped her just before she reached the doorway.

"Dr. Cameron," he said, holding out his hand. "Let me see those."

Cameron cringed and looked at me, an unspoken apology plastered across her face. "It's ok, Cameron," I said, resigning myself to my fate. "Thank you." She smiled briefly before turning to flee once more.

James held the folder in his hand without opening it. My heart fell. _So this is how it all goes down_, I thought.

"What are these, Jules?" he asked, his voice tight yet surprisingly neutral.

I couldn't lie anymore. "DNA results," I said simply.

He nodded his head, as if I'd confirmed what he'd already suspected. I could have died right then and there. He slowly opened the folder and pulled out the sheet. I waited, holding my breath as I squeezed my eyes shut. _Please God,_ I begged. I heard the folder flutter to the floor and my eyes popped open. James was slouched in the chair, his face buried in his hands.

"James?" I asked hesitantly. He slowly raised his head up and met my eyes. His chocolate brown eyes were rimmed in red.

"She was mine," he whispered, before burying his hands back in his face.

I began to cry with him then, mourning the loss of a daughter we'd never know.

A few moments later, I felt James crawl into bed next to me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his chest.

"I am so sorry, baby," he whispered, nuzzling his face in my hair. I could feel the dampness of his tears on the back of my head.

I couldn't believe it. I had cheated on him and he was apologizing?

"Don't," I whispered back, nearly choking on my own tears. "I'm the one who should be sorry and I am. I'm so sorry, James. I never meant to hurt you like this."

He kissed the top of my head then. "It's my fault," he insisted. I shook my head no.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was pregnant." Since we were apologizing, I figured I might as well get it all out at once. "I didn't find out until the day before I miscarried." My eyes filled with tears at the thought of the daughter we'd lost. It's funny how quickly you can get attached to the idea of carrying a child inside you. I'd only known I was pregnant for about 24 hours before I lost our baby, but I still felt the loss acutely.

"Shhh," he comforted as my tears turned to sobs. "Jules, I know this isn't going to make you feel better right now, but you can still have babies, if that's what you want."

I sobbed harder, not understanding his words. Was he consoling me that I'd at least have that even after he left me? "What do you want?" I managed to choke out, still waiting to hear my fate with regards to our tattered marriage.

But he misunderstood me, thinking I was speaking of the matter immediately at hand. "I want us to have another daughter," he whispered. I couldn't have cried any harder than I was already crying at the moment, but I started to wail and my body shook in both relief and sorrow at his words.

"Jules, baby," he continued. "Look at me."

I rolled over to face him, grimacing a little at the pain that flared through my abdomen. I stared in James' deep brown eyes, shocked at the love that I saw in them. "I want to start over Jules, me and you. And I want us to have another baby. Lots of them." He smiled. "I forgive you, Jules," he said, running his fingers down the side of my face before placing them against my lips to silence my protests. "But only if you'll forgive me for driving you to the point where I failed you completely as a husband."

I went to shake my head no again. He didn't need to apologize. The blame lay solely with me. "Jules," he insisted. "I need your forgiveness too."

"Okay," I stammered. He smiled then, and my heart broke all over again.

"You know," he began, rubbing my upper arm gently. "Today's the perfect day to start over." He dipped his head and began to nuzzle my neck.

"Why's that?" I asked, sniffling slightly and rubbing the tears from my eyes, surprised to find that I'd finally ceased to cry. My heart was pounding. I'd never once believed that I'd ever get James back after what I'd done to him and was still somewhat doubtful that this was actually happening. I had been getting a lot of drugs over the last few days…

He looked up then and flashed his famous lopsided grin at me. "You don't remember?" he teased.

I groaned, but smiled. "Sorry, love," I said, hesitantly reaching up to caress his unshaven face. I still couldn't believe this was happening. Any minute now I expected to wake up and find myself alone.

"Well, I may be spending it at the hospital, but at least this year I'm with you."

His grin grew even bigger as understanding dared to gleam in my eyes.

"Happy anniversary, Jules," he said.

"Happy anniversary, James," I returned, watching as the warm tears welled up in my eyes and blurred my vision once more.

"I love you."

"I love you too," I returned, grinning like a fool for the first time in weeks. "You know I do."

_Fin_


End file.
